our own sense of time

Shivani | 20 | Boston

[okayysophia]

[mabylc]

me: not today, satan 

satan: you’ve been canceling our plans for weeks now. if it’s something i said, please just tell me

[jasper-rolls]

today in “youtube’s recommendation algorithm completely misunderstands what i’m interested in”: i am recommended a channel consisting entirely of livestreams of a creepy dude sitting in a corner and just staring at the camera for 4 hours, 3 times a week

[hotvampireadjacent]

a robber broke into his house and he didn’t stop recording and the robber got so creeped out he left. the video is on his YouTube somewhere

[every1one]

https://youtu.be/tmrXakd_r6I?t=9391 here

[thank-you-everyone-deactivated2]

“This episode of Sitting and Smiling features a very special guest. About 2.5 hours into the webcast, I hear someone come into the house, which is odd, because my only housemate is at work, and we aren’t expecting anyone. I realize I didn’t check to see if the doors were locked before starting the webcast. I hear the person stealthily moving around the house, and then I hear them stealthily climbing the stairs, towards my room. My door opens, and I hear an unfamiliar male voice say “Hello?”. Then, after presumably seeing me sitting still and smiling in front of a camera, lit from beneath by a florescent bulb, he promptly descends the stairs and exits the house.

You can see this happen at 2:36:30

As it turns out, the doors were locked, and he had broken one open. We found nothing missing, as there is not really anything of value in the house other than the laptop I was using to webcast.“

I’m howling

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

The robber legitimately thinks they just walked into a creepypasta and they made the wise choice of getting the hell out of there

[requiemforthepast]

I have buried you in every place I’ve been. You keep ending up in my shaking hands.

Bon Iver, from A Song For A Lover Of Long Ago (via apanoplyofsong)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Go all the way with it. Do not back off. For once, go all the goddamn way with what matters.

Ernest Hemingway, from The Complete Short Stories (via versteur)

[fear-not-beloved]

Perhaps the most important thing we bring to another person is the silence in us, not the sort of silence that is filled with unspoken criticism or hard withdrawal. The sort of silence that is a place of refuge, of rest, of acceptance of someone as they are. We are all hungry for this other silence. It is hard to find. In its presence we can remember something beyond the moment, a strength on which to build a life. Silence is a place of great power and healing (…) Wounding and healing are not opposites. They’re part of the same thing. It is our wounds that enable us to be compassionate with the wounds of others. It is our limitations that make us kind to the limitations of other people. It is our loneliness that helps us to to find other people or to even know they’re alone with an illness. I think I have served people perfectly with parts of myself I used to be ashamed of.

Rachel Naomi Remen (via seekhimfindhim)

[c-ptsdofficial]

rest assured, rational me and impulsive me are having a fuckin smackdown 24/7 100% of the time

[greelin]

why do so many 40+ yr old men have the audacity to like.. flirt w/ me in all seriousness. i’m half (or less!) your age, bud. do you not have places to be? go call your kids. eat a grapefruit. stock up on viagra. decay. the options that don’t involve me are endless

[theocseason4]

No umbrellas we get cleansed by the rain like stevie nicks wanted

[noelbadgespugh]

[anarkalilove]

[parkourandreccc]

What's it like to not be depressed lmao would love to know

[robertseanleonard]

the rooftops of edinburgh

[wordsnquotes]

I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.

Franz Kafka,  Letters to Milena (via wordsnquotes)

[humansofnewyork]

“We were pretty poor back in Mexico. My parents were divorced. Mom did the best she could. She was always a hustler. She’d sell jewelry, or food, or anything that she could. But a lot of nights there still wouldn’t be enough to eat. We’d survive on tortillas and salt. I was only eight when we came to America. So I was too young to understand. I think my mom thought she could make some money and bring us home. She thought she’d learn English, and maybe start a business. But it was so much harder than she expected. We moved so much looking for work. She’s fifty and she still cleans houses every day. Every year she gets more worn down. She’s been getting sick a lot lately. But she can’t afford to stop. She never will. Right now I’m in school. I always thought I had to be the best student because I’m undocumented. I thought I’d go to law school, or graduate school. But now I’m not so sure. My mom would literally destroy her body to make that happen for me. How could I allow that to happen? I’m a Dreamer. And everyone loves the Dreamers because we’re a perfect package to sell. But why am I the only one who gets the chance to feel safe? Whenever I hear ‘I stand with Dreamers,’ I always think about my mom. I’m not willing to throw her under the bus. I’m not willing to be a bargaining chip to make her seem like a criminal. Everything people admire about Dreamers is because of our parents.”

[noelbadgespugh]

hmmm

[noelbadgespugh]